


No Accounting for Taste

by brookebond



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Some Fluff, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 07:16:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11286336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookebond/pseuds/brookebond
Summary: Even though soulmates were common, James had been content without knowing who his was. He was happily married to Anne, the loveliest person he had ever encountered. She put up with all his bullshit and they were expecting a child.Things don't always go to plan though, and when complications arise during birth, James may just end up on his own after all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaimistoryteller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimistoryteller/gifts).



> This fic was originally jaimistoryteller's. I was lucky enough that she put it up as part of the 00Q WiP Amnesty.  
> Hopefully I've managed to keep the essence of the story while adding my own spin to it.
> 
> It's unbeta'd so I apologise for the multitude of errors.  
> I tried.

James could predict a lot of things: how a mark would react if he pitched his voice a certain way, if a mission was likely to turn sour, that M would always send him to the worst countries, that his wife would be waiting for him when he finally made it home.

The list of things he couldn’t predict was much shorter.

There was no way he could have foreseen the complications Anne had during labour.

As far as James had known, everything was going smoothly. They’d rung the midwife when the contractions had started and had done everything they could to get the whole process moving along swiftly. A few hours later, they were in the hospital, doctors and nurses rushing to and from the room. There was a steady stream of people, all seeming more agitated than the last.

Eventually a decision was made and James was being shoved out the door and told to wait while they took Anne off for an emergency c-section.

James paced, fingers dragging through his short hair. He had berated every nurse that had passed by, demanded an update on his wife and child, but no one shared a single piece of information. Each and every one of them said that it wasn’t their place, that he had to wait for the doctor.

It was infuriating and he fought hard not to put his fist through a wall.

“Mr Bond?”

James spun, eyes catching on the doctor that had rushed Anne out of the delivery room. “Is she okay? The baby?” he asked, desperate for any news. “Can I see them?”

The doctor hesitated and that was all the confirmation James needed.

“Are they both dead?” he asked, quiet but composed.

“Your wife lost too much blood. There was nothing we could do,” the doctor said sympathetically.

“And the baby?”

“You have a perfectly healthy baby girl.”

It was good news. James knew that. But there was a hollow ache spreading through his chest. His training was the only thing stopping him from lashing out in some way. Anne was dead and he couldn’t let anyone know how much that crushed him. Certainly not some doctor that was trying to usher him into a room so he could say goodbye to his wife.

She hadn’t been his soulmate but James had loved Anne with every inch of his being. He wouldn’t have married her, wouldn’t have put her in harm’s way, if he hadn’t. They had been an almost perfect match and it was a shame they weren’t soulmates. But James hadn’t minded and neither had Anne. They’d had five happy years together. How was he expected to say goodbye to her in just a few short minutes?

Anne was covered from the shoulders down with a sheet. She was pale, so pale. James had seen hundreds of dead bodies—had been the cause of many of them—but seeing his wife lying on a hospital bed, no colour in her cheeks hit him far harder than he had expected.

James reached out, leaning heavily against the nearest wall as he tried to calm his breathing. All his years as a double-oh were meant to save him from moments of weakness.

One of the nurses in the room placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, offering a small, comforting smile when he looked at her.

“Would you like to see your little girl?” she asked, pointing at the plastic cot next to the bed.

James nodded, unable to find any words. He wasn’t entirely convinced words were necessary even if he knew how to describe anything he was feeling.

The baby was tiny. Well, James assumed she was more than likely actually normal for having just been born, but to him she was tiny. He reached out a hand, tentatively stroking her cheek.

“Soft,” he whispered, afraid to break whatever spell was currently keeping the room silent.

He could see Anne in his little girl’s face. Could see Anne in the curve of her nose, the furrow to her brows. His chest ached, love and heartbreak warring inside him. There was no choice. He had to keep her, he knew it. Anne would have wanted him to try. This baby was part of them both and James had never been good at leaving Anne behind. He knew he couldn’t leave this only part of her left.

“When can I take her home?” James asked, turning to face the nearest nurse.

“We would like to keep her overnight but as long as everything is stable, you should be able to take her home tomorrow.”

James nodded, turning his attention back to his little girl. Her arms flapped and James smiled down at her. He was going to make sure she knew how much she was loved every single day. He was going to make sure she knew everything he did about Anne.

There was only one glitch in his plan.

“Excuse me,” he said to the room in general and stepped out, fishing his phone out of his pocket and dialling M’s number.

“007,” she clipped.

“I need leave for the next few months,” he said without preamble. M appreciated straightforwardness but James didn’t feel like delving further into his reasons for needing the leave. She most likely knew already.

“Of course.”

“M,” he said before she could ring off.

“Yes, 007.”

“Thank you.” He hung up before she could comment on his out of character gratitude. One day he would face her and deal with the teasing but for now he had a daughter to take care of. His job would be there when he was ready.

—

“If you could stop crying for five minutes, that would be great,” he muttered at Emerson as he bounced her.

They’d been home together for all of three days and they weren’t adjusting to one another. The nurses had assured him that they would find their rhythm, that things would settle. But James was starting to wish he was on a mission, preferably one that was life threatening. At least then he would know what to do.

“Please,” he begged. “I don’t remember when I last slept.” James continued to bounce and started to walk, hoping the movement would trick Emerson into sleeping. “I once stayed awake for four days. The French ambassador had been kidnapped in Somalia. Dangerous place, don’t you ever go there,” he rambled as he moved throughout the flat, noticing the way Emerson was beginning to struggle less. “Pirates, deserts, beautiful seas, amazing people. You’re never going there, though. You’re going to spend your entire life in London, maybe not even leaving this flat,” James threatened.

It was an empty threat. James would give Emerson the world. Three days into her life and James knew he was wrapped around her little finger.

“Just like your mother,” he muttered.

James stopped bouncing when he reached the bassinet and eased Emerson down into it. He was careful not to jostle her too much, fearing that she would wake again.

She didn’t stir, though, and James breathed a sigh of relief. He grabbed the baby monitor and headed into the living room, collapsing onto the couch.

The flat was a total mess. Clothes were strewn all over the place, mostly tiny onesies and booties, and there were baby bottles littering the coffee table. James had to clean up and sterilise the bottles. Emerson was going to need them soon. But his eyes fell shut, sleep dragging him under. He didn’t fight it, just let his exhaustion wash over him and take him to a dreamless rest.

—

Sun streamed onto his face, the world turning a fleshy red as he woke slowly. It was pleasurable, being able to wake slowly without the burning need to get to cover or worry about his life. It happened so seldom that James barely knew what to do. Coffee was the only thing he could really think about. The desperate need for caffeine forcing his eyes open.

He glared at the open curtains, wondering why he hadn’t bothered to close them before deciding to sleep on the couch. James ignored the sun streaming in through the large windows and shuffled to the kitchen, settling into the routine of making coffee. A thought tickled the back of his mind like he was forgetting something, something important.

Crying crackled over the baby monitor and James was instantly awake. Emerson.

“Fuck.” He left the coffee supplies on the bench and rushed to the nursery. Just a few hours of sleep had made him forget about the tiny person in his charge. How was he meant to do any of this by himself?

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he murmured, cradling Emerson in his arms. “What am I supposed to do, hmm?”

Between looking after a newborn and organising a funeral, James was left with no time for himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d bathed or had a full meal. While he was used to being ridiculously overworked, it was too much.

He grabbed his phone off the bench next to the coffee, still holding Emerson in one arm while he dialled Eve’s number.

“Help me,” he pleaded as soon as the call connected.

“James?”

“Please. I can’t do this.” His voice was close to cracking. When had he become so upset? He was more composed, stronger even. But he was nearing his breaking point. Who knew he even had one?

“Are you and the baby alright?” Eve asked, her voice tinged with concern.

“Yes,” he answered automatically. “Well, she is.”

“I’ll be there in half an hour, okay?”

“Thank you,” he murmured, ending the call and pressing his lips to Emerson’s head.

—

Eve was a Godsend. She had brought more things than James thought a baby needed. Sure he had the basics; he and Anne had made sure to stock up on things before Emerson was born, but somehow Eve had found things he’d never even heard of and a few things he should have already had.

“How did you not have a single muslin cloth in this entire flat?” Eve asked as she folded yet another onesie that had been hung up to dry.

“I didn’t even know what that was until you turned up,” James replied, sprawled out on the couch.

Emerson had fallen asleep not long after Eve arrived and James had been enjoying the quiet and someone else in his flat cleaning up. He should have cared more than his usually pristine flat currently looked like a bomb had been dropped. But he couldn’t, not with exhaustion weighing heavily on him.

“You need to get a nanny or something. You need help.”

James groaned, dragging a hand over his face. Stubble rubbed against his palm, reminding him that he had basic human needs to take care of.

“I’ll think about it,” he acquiesced, pushing himself off the couch. “How long can you stay?”

“A few more hours. There’s some crisis going on and Tanner needs me back asap,” she said, patting the clothing that was flowing over the basket there were in. “But you really should consider getting some help.”

“What if I paid you?” James joked. It was half a joke, really. Eve was possibly the most organised person he knew. He didn’t know anyone else that would rise to the job of looking after both him and Emerson as well as she would.

“As much as I would love to help, James. Queen and country are calling.”

“Of course.” James nodded. He understood that far better than anyone else. He’d run out of fingers to count the number of times he had put Queen and country above all else. Even Anne.

“I’ll make inquiries and find someone for you, alright?”

“MI6 has nannies with the appropriate clearance to work for a double-oh?” he asked, amused that a thing even existed. There were so many things about the secret service that he was yet to learn.

“You aren’t the first single parent to work for MI6, James,” Eve said and stood from the couch. “If you need anything else, ring.”

“I’ll try not to, but thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“No one is going to believe me when I tell them about this,” Eve teased.

“Don’t you dare,” James warned, smiling up at his friend. It was good to smile. It was good to feel a small flicker of happiness again. “Leave before Tanner comes searching for you.”

“Anytime, James. I’m serious.”

“I know. No off you go. She’ll be awake soon. For a newborn, she has my impeccable timing.”

Eve laughed and patted him once on the shoulder before heading off, leaving James and Emerson alone again.

The flat was silent, Emerson’s quiet sleepy snuffles crackling over the baby monitor. James looked around the living room, everything much neater than it had been hours before. He was at loose ends, trying to think of what needed to be done.  _ If _ there was anything that needed to be done.

“Coffee,” he muttered. He couldn’t get enough of it anymore. There wasn’t enough caffeine in the world to keep him awake but he wanted some all the same.

He got as far as the kitchen when Emerson’s cries filtered over the monitor. James groaned. He wasn’t even allowed one thing to himself.

He turned around and shuffled to the nursery, smiling down at his baby girl as he cooed and picked her up.


	2. Chapter 2

When the news had broken that MI6 had been blown up, James had tried to go back to work straight away. His patriotism was at an all-time high. But both M and Eve had told him not to bother. He still had to think of Emerson and they’d been going through nannies like nobodies business.

None of them were a good fit. It was James’ fault they weren’t up to his standard. Honestly, some people shouldn’t be left alone with children. Emerson was the only thing he had left, he wasn’t going to risk her safety just because some boffin at MI6 had deemed them appropriate.

A new nanny had started that morning and since leaving the house, James had checked his phone twenty times. He expected to have some sort of message saying his flat was on fire or something terrible had happened. There weren’t any messages waiting for him. Not even a simple ‘everything is fine’ message. He wasn’t sure if he should be worried or pleased. Maybe this one would stick around. It wouldn’t hurt to hope.

“Since Boothroyd was killed when MI6 was blown up, there have been some changes,” Eve said, leading James through the tunnels of the temporary offices.

“I’d be worried if there weren’t any,” James muttered, fidgeting with his cuffs as he fought the urge to check his phone again.

“If you’re going to comment on everything, Tanner can take you on the tour,” Eve threatened.

James held his hands up in surrender. While he got along with Tanner, Eve was the much better option for a guided tour. Plus she was much prettier than Tanner.

“Right. Carrying on. There’s a new Quartermaster, obviously. So you’ll have to play nice. The other agents have had a few months to get used to him.”

“What do you mean ‘get used’? There’s something wrong with him?” James asked with a raised brow.

“Not at all. He’s a certifiable genius.”

“But,” James prompted.

“You’ll see,” she replied cryptically and pushed open the door to the current Q-branch.

There was a flurry of activity, keys clacking furiously, people rushing with boxes filled with things James could only imagine.

“Where’s Q?” Eve asked the nearest minion, stopping his rush to leave the office.

“Uh… Not here,” he said with an apologetic shrug. “Left an hour ago.”

“Bugger. Well, you’ll have to get the basics now and meet him later.”

—

James sat, staring at the painting. He’d been waiting for twenty minutes already and was writing this new Quartermaster off entirely. What was the point in setting a time for a drop off if no one paid any attention to it? He sighed softly, taking note of anyone that looked out of place in the gallery. There were all sorts there but none screamed head of a branch of the English secret service.

He was getting ready to leave when someone sat next to him. More specifically, a uni student. He couldn’t get a break even at an art gallery.

James looked at him for a moment, taking in the oversized jacket, mismatched suit, and unruly hair, before looking back at the picture. He wondered how long he would have to wait to leave for it to not be considered rude.

“It always makes me feel a bit melancholy. Grand old warship being ignominiously hauled away for scrap,” the student sighed. “The inevitability of time, don’t you think?”

Silence followed and James hoped that was the end of whatever the student was trying to accomplish. He wasn’t sure if the kid was trying to pick him up or just come off as clever. Either way, James wasn’t interested. He was pissed his Quartermaster had stood him up.

“What do you see?” the student asked, clearly unable to leave well enough alone.

“A bloody big ship,” he said as calm as anything. “Excuse me.”

James made to get up, to leave this nosey kid behind when the voice piped up again.

“007.”

James sat back down with a sigh.

“I’m your new Quartermaster.”

“You must be joking,” he said incredulously.

“Why, because I’m not wearing a lab coat?”

“Because you still have spots.” James frowned, unable to keep his gaze off the young man. He still couldn’t get past the youth. Eve really did have a wicked sense of humour. He could see her hands all over whatever this was.

“My complexion is hardly relevant.”

“Your competence is,” James grumbled.

“Age is no guarantee of efficiency,” the young man replied.

“And youth is no guarantee of innovation,” James countered.

“I’ll hazard I can do more damage on my laptop sitting in my pyjamas before my first cup of Earl Grey then you can do in a year in the field.”

“Oh, so why do you need me?” James bristled.

“Every now and then a trigger has to be pulled.”

James turned to look at his new Quatermaster. “Or not pulled. It’s hard to know which in your pyjamas.” It felt good to spar with someone again. It had been too long since he’d had proper interactions with someone that was worthy of fighting.

He warmed slightly as the young man turned to him, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Q,” he said with a slight admiration, holding out his hand.

“007,” Q replied, taking the proffered hand in his own.

A tingle shot up his arm, warm and pleasant as it travelled over his chest, settling over his heart. James’ eyes widened at Q, seeing what he imagined was a similar expression to his own.

He’d heard stories, heard it all over the news, heard it in hushed voices. When you touched your soulmate, that was when the mark would appear. James had given up on finding his soulmate. Had settled into his life with Anne and, since she had died, had given up entirely on finding anyone else to spend his life with. His soulmate being his new—extremely young—Quartermaster was really throwing a wrench into things.

Q pulled his hand free before James did and James missed the feeling, the warm fuzziness he’d had while holding Q’s hand. It was stupid, supremely stupid and he was so caught up in his thoughts that James missed the first part of what Q was saying when a small envelope was held out to him.

“—Shanghai, documentation, and passport.”

“Thank you,” James muttered, slipping the envelope into the inside of his jacket.

“And this,” Q said, utterly composed as he handed over a small, sleek case. He explained what was inside as James looked at it.

It was unimpressive, really. When Boothroyd was in charge, James would have been given a multitude of fancy toys to use on his mission and seeing how this was his first since Emerson was born, James had assumed he’d be getting that level of treatment again. Apparently he had been entirely wrong.

James had to give Q points for the fact that his gun would only respond to his palm print, but that was the only thing he was willing to concede ingenuity on.

“A gun and a radio,” he noted. “Not exactly Christmas is it.”

“Were you expecting an exploding pen? We don’t really go in for that anymore,” Q said with a cheeky little wrinkle of his nose.

It was stupid how that tiny action sent a small thrill through James. He had to blame it on the soulmark that was still tingling away over his heart. There wasn’t any other logical reason for his thoughts to be turning to how he could possibly get Q to make that face again.

Q stood and took a few steps past James before turning back, making sure James was looking up at him before speaking. “Good luck out there in the field,” he said with a slight pause. “And please return the equipment in one piece.” Q turned and walked away without another word.

“Brave new world,” James muttered to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

James traced the still tingling interlocking bands made up of binary code on his chest that now covered the spot where his heart was. He knew the symbol, had seen it repeatedly as he was growing up.

“Strength,” he murmured.

He’d had weeks to come to terms with the dark lines on his chest but James was no closer to being comfortable with them or understanding what they were supposed to mean. There were several ways ‘strength’ could be taken. Ultimately, James wanted to understand the symbol but he really wanted to know why the fates had decided the young Quartermaster was his equal instead of his wife.

James gave up on that line of thinking, knowing it was only going to end up with him in the corner and a bottle of scotch. He’d arrived home from his mission safe and sound and wasn’t going to tempt fate by drinking the first night he was home. He hadn’t seen Emerson in weeks and was starved for her affections.

He slipped a shirt on, covering the mark that had been haunting his dreams for weeks and went in search of his daughter and Louise, the nanny.

“Hello there, love,” he said, wiggling his fingers at Emerson seated in her highchair. “Any problems?” he asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it in person. It was easier to tell if someone was lying when he could see their face.

“None at all. She’s a little angel,” Louise answered, spooning more pureed food into Emerson’s mouth.

James snorted, unable to believe that anything he had created could be described as an angel. Clearly Louise had never been introduced to his files.

His phone buzzing in his trousers pocket drew his attention away and he answered, not bothering to check the caller ID first.

“James, you are alive. Tanner is going to have my head if you don’t get your arse down to medical.”

“Ah, Eve, lovely to hear from you,” James replied, walking out of the kitchen and to his bedroom.

“Cut the niceties, James. Get down here, now,” Eve threatened.

“Alright. Give me an hour, though. I haven’t seen Emerson in a month.”

“An hour,” Eve sighed. “One hour or I will come and drag you down here, understand?”

“Perfectly,” James replied. “Ta.” He ended the call and dragged a hand down his face. James had thought that since he had a dependent, MI6 would become more forgiving in terms of his inability to follow procedure but apparently that wasn’t so.

He was going to give medical hell for pulling him away from his daughter so soon after returning home, especially since he wasn’t injured in any way, shape, or form.

—

“I’m fairly certain I said to bring it back  _ in _ one piece, not bring back one piece,” Q laughed, finding his own joke immensely entertaining.

It was the first time they’d been in the same room since discovering they were soulmates and, with the new information, James was intrigued by the dark, curly-haired boffin standing in front of him ranting about James’ lack of respect for Q’s equipment.

James bit back the urge to make a salacious comment about how James would most definitely take care of Q’s equipment if he was only given the chance. Their relationship was still new and not actually a relationship.

He pondered how he could possibly define who Q was to him as the doctor checked their findings and finally came back to declare that James was as healthy as he could be for a double-oh agent nearing retirement age.

Q left after hearing the doctors findings and left James to get dressed by himself.

There were a million things James wanted to ask the young man. James wanted the chance to get to know his soulmate, to figure out how things could work between them. He wasn’t looking for a new lover, Anne’s death still too fresh for him to consider taking someone else to their bed.

When he was dressed, James walked to Q-branch, delighting in the small gasps of the minions when he entered. He knew most of them never usually got to see a double-oh looking so casual—James had worn a cream-coloured sweater with dark jeans—and he wondered how often he could get away with that kind of outfit. He was thoroughly enjoying the reactions.

He winked at a few minions, grinning at the boys that blushed and began tapping furiously at their keyboards. At least he knew he could still elicit a response.

James spotted Q, hunched over a desk in the centre of Q-branch, working determinedly without noticing a single thing happening around him. That was until Q picked up his cup of tea and he looked out over his employees, spotting James. A small smile tugged at his lips but it was gone before James had a chance to respond.

“Can I help you, 007?”

“I was hoping we could talk.”

“We have nothing to talk about,” Q said dismissively.

“I really think there’s a lot to talk about, actually,” James countered. He knew it was going to be a difficult conversation but it was needed. They  _ needed _ to talk about what they were going to do. They were soulmates.

“If you would like to discuss your inability to follow commands then I’m all ears, 007,” Q said, sparing a brief look in James’ direction.

“Actually I’d like to talk about our—”

“Good day,” Q cut him off and turned away, busying himself with the small gadget he was working on.

“Q,” James said, trying to get his attention again but Q ignored him. Either by choice or because the Quatermaster was that engrossed in his job, James was kind of impressed, if not totally annoyed.

“That went well,” he muttered as he turned and left Q-branch to go back to the one person that would be happy to see him.

—

James sat on the floor playing with Emerson. There weren’t too many things he could do with a four-month-old, but she loved when he sang to her. So he usually tried to turn everything into lyrics. Her laugh was the greatest thing he had ever heard.

“Your mother would love you,” he sighed, his heart aching for Anne.

James wished he could talk to her, get her opinion on what he was supposed to do about Q. Though, things would be much more complicated if she was still alive. James could see how well that conversation would have gone. Anne would have found a way to make room for Q in their lives no matter how much he protested. Part of him was glad he wouldn’t have to find a way to split himself between two people. That made him feel guilty, felt horrible for even thinking it.

Emerson grumbled, bringing James out of his depressing thought spiral.

“Yes, right,” he said, standing and picking her up. “Must be time for dinner.” James bounced Emerson on his hip as he walked to the kitchen.

Louise had helpfully left the fridge stocked full of meals for both James and Emerson. He was going to have to offer her a bonus or maybe a holiday. She was far better than James deserved.

“Alright, miss,” he said as he settled Emerson in the highchair. “What do you feel like tonight? Pumpkin and carrots or spinach and yams?”

Emerson waved her arms and made more gurgling noises.

“Yes, of course. What a silly question. Pumpkin and carrots it is,” he said with a smile.

If only his enemies could see him now. No one would believe he was capable of any kind of domesticity, let alone taking care of a baby.

“You had better eat more of this than you wear,” he threatened, pulling a chair closer so they could enjoy dinner time properly.


End file.
